When I Was a Child
by PenchantPal
Summary: Sometimes you stand so firm for so long, it's easy to forget why you're doing it at all. [One-shot. Alexandria character piece.]


She didn't try to keep the judgment from her tone. "A _vacation_?"

Legend grimaced, but he stood firm. "It's just for two weeks. I've barely seen Arthur in months. I can't even remember the last time we went on an actual date. He needs this. _I_ need this."

"_We_ need you," Alexandria stressed. "You're the leader of the Protectorate. You have bigger responsibilities than Arthur. We all do."

Legend sighed, his eyes travelling over the stacks of files and reports covering her desk. Forms and admissions, endless paperwork, and that was just for Alexandria. It was nothing compared to what she got as Rebecca. Even with what her double took care of, it still took every minute she had just to get through all of it. But she got it done, and that was what mattered. She was proud of that.

For all that she had done, she had always been the kid of Cauldron. Even though the Number Man was younger, had been introduced younger, they saw him different than her. Not that she could blame them; he had always carried an air with him that made him seem older than even the Doctor. And now it only kept getting worse, the rest growing up while she was trapped looking the same. Still the same bright-eyed girl with big ideas they had first met, and though those ideas had worked, _were_ working, she still felt the need to prove herself, to be seen as just as mature and capable as the others.

It had been nearly sixteen years exactly since the Doctor had given her powers, and she had never once taken a vacation.

"I know that you don't approve," he said. "Honestly, I expected it. But I'm not like you or David. I can't only have this. I need more. I need a reminder _why_."

_If you knew the truth, you wouldn't. You'd hate yourself for doing anything else._ "London wasn't reminder enough? The Simurgh tossing Big Ben into the River Thames doesn't give you enough of a reason?"

"No, it doesn't," he admitted. "When I look at this, at all of this, sometimes it just feels hopeless. We've never managed to so much as dent a single Endbringer, and now there's three of them. Hero's gone. It feels like everything is slowly tumbling down."

"Maybe it is. That's why we have to hold it up for as long as we can."

"But I can't think like that. I can't. If I do, I'll lose myself. I need to think that the world can be better. How can I lead people when I don't see anything worth leading them towards? I need to know there's light at the end of the tunnel. Something more than this, even if it's just a vacation or a candlelit dinner."

"That's childish."

He shrugged, a soft smile on his face. "Maybe. Is that so bad?"

She shook her head. It was impossible to argue with him when he was like this, the mushy idiot filled with earnestness. It was why she had picked him to lead the Protectorate over herself in the first place.

Sometimes she wondered if he had been a boy scout before all this, but she had never thought to ask; there was always so much to do, it seemed insignificant in comparison.

"I'm not going to convince you otherwise, am I?" she asked with the weariness of defeat.

"I'm afraid not. Arthur already booked the suite."

"Of course he did." She sighed. "Fine. Go."

He grinned. "I'll tell you all about it when I come back."

"Please don't."

He laughed, and the echoes of it dwelled behind even after he left, sticking to her like a persistence itch.

He was the only one left of them who could still laugh, really laugh. Hero had used to, but he was gone now. Eidolon was humorless, always had been, and the most one could ever get out of the Number Man was a raised eyebrow. Manton's laughs had been filled with condescension more than any joy, and his daughter couldn't have laughed now even if she had wanted. Doctor Mother... sometimes Alexandria wondered how much of a human was left in there. How much was left behind after all these years under Scion's looming threat? How much could survive being ground under the weight of her decisions?

Contessa... They had been roughly the same age when they first met, and she had already had that placid mask for a face, like porcelain. How old had she been the last time she had laughed? A toddler maybe?

And herself. When had she stopped laughing? When the Siberian had ripped Hero in half? When Leviathan had first arisen and they had all realized that this was only the beginning?

Maybe...

No, now wasn't the time to think about it. She had work to do.

* * *

The doors slid open, and in walked the most recent source of her problems.

He was dressed in a long brown cloak, the shade and texture of a burlap sack. The hood was drawn up over his head, casting his face in shadow with the help of the metal visor underneath, leaving only his scruffy beard and slight frown visible. His staff, strong and sturdy despite the wood beginning to show its age, clunked against the waxed floor of her office with every step.

A wizard in an office building.

"Myrddin," she greeted with a clipped smile. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," he said shortly, sweeping his cloak around him and taking the seat in front of her desk.

Alexandria steepled her fingers together atop her desk, trying to dispel some of the tension that had refused to leave her body for the past month. Legend had long since returned from his vacation with a ring on his finger and a renewed dedication that lit up everything he did, and he had been greeted with congratulations from every corner.

During that same time, Alexandria had finally struck a deal with the Guild concerning their new tinker, a man from Newfoundland who specialized in programming. It had been the result of months of hard work, and yet the most she had gotten was a nod and a pat on the back – from Legend no less, meaning she couldn't even be angry at him.

It was probably just frustration at how long said deal had taken, or so she told herself, and so she had decided to focus on smaller issues for a time, things she could expect to handle quickly and with minimal headache.

"This is our fifth meeting now, Myrddin," she said, trying to keep her voice pleasant and not a murderous growl. "You must understand at this point that I'm not giving up. You _will_ change your costume."

She watched with some satisfaction as Myrddin squirmed in his seat. Though she might have been the kid of Cauldron, outside of there she was one of the most respected capes, one of the most _powerful_ people in the world.

But even standing against that, Myrddin still refused to yield. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand _why_."

She sighed, shaking her head. "We've discussed _why_. Myrddin, it's the image of the whole thing. The Protectorate is a government agency, and we have to present ourselves as such. If we are going to get anything done, we have to be respected. A man dressed up as a wizard does not do much for respecting us as a legitimate authority."

"But what of Chevalier?" he asked, leaning forward. "What of any of the other heroes who fashion themselves after knights or wizards? What about them? They are not the ones brought up to your office and told to change. My costume is mine. It means something to me."

"It means _nothing_," she snapped. "It is a costume. That's the difference. Chevalier dressing as a knight? It means _nothing_ to him. It is a _costume_. It's the difference between a man dressing up as a knight or thinking he actually is one."

His fist clenched tightly around his staff. "Is that what I am to you?" he asked, scowling. "A childish man playing pretend?"

She forced herself to relax her muscles, shaking her head. "No, of course not. What you are to me is one of the finest heroes in the Protectorate," she reassured. _And I am not going to lose you over something this minuscule._ "But that is what they think, and that's all that matters. The Protectorate needs to be respected. _We_ need to be respected."

"I don't care if I'm respected," he said, softer, his grip loosening. "This is who I am."

"This is about more than just you, Myrddin."

"I know that. Dammit, I know that. I'm a hero. Every day, it's about more than me. I put my life on the line for theirs. I use these powers for the world instead of myself. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did anything else. That's all for them. But _this_?" He stabbed his staff against the floor with a loud crack. "This is for me. That's all I ask. Can't I have that much of myself?"

She sighed, feeling suddenly tired. "Myrddin..."

"What do you call your own, Alexandria?" he asked, staring at her intently, almost pleadingly. "You've given more than most would ever dream of, but there has to be something you keep for yourself. Something to hold on to."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. How could she keep anything for herself, knowing what she knew? Knowing that every last person on Earth, on every Earth, would all die if she failed? How could she be so selfish, so childish to keep a part of her from that?

Myrddin's gaze slowly softened. "We all have to have something, Alexandria. Please. Let me keep this."

She huffed out a breath, shakier than Alexandria should have ever let out, and tried desperately to keep the tears in her one eye from falling – her other gone, sacrificed with everything else.

She nodded.

"Thank you," he said. He rose from his chair and looked like he was going to say something, then turned around and left.

Leaving her alone.

* * *

She almost jumped with surprise as she heard the rush of air of a portal opening, a woman with pale skin and dark hair stepping out. The other woman seemed caught off-guard as well, her steps faltering for as long as Alexandria had ever heard from her.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here," Contessa said neutrally as the portal closed behind her, face the same placid mask from sixteen years ago. Alexandria felt the momentary urge to put her helmet back on, but decided against it.

"I needed a break," Alexandria confessed.

"From?"

She shrugged. "Everything."

Contessa nodded after a moment, as though unsure. It was odd, seeing her handle any situation anything other than perfectly. Alexandria had spent more time around Contessa than anyone other than the Doctor, and there would occasionally be moments like this, where she seemed... awkward, almost. Confused.

They were quiet as the movie played out on the enormous television in front of them, showing a girl in a long scarf trudging through deep snow. It was the only recreational room in the entire base, a pet project by Hero and the Number Man back in the day, outfitted with a sound system that put to shame any theatre she had ever been to and designed with the best acoustics in the world. Empty most days, just passed through on the way to somewhere else.

"What are you watching?" Contessa asked.

Alexandria blinked, looking back at the other woman. "The Maggie Holt trilogy," she said slowly.

"Is it new?"

"No. It's... actually pretty old."

"Is it good?"

"Not that good." She frowned. "Not at all, really. It's just... nostalgic."

Contessa didn't say anything more, but Alexandria found herself answering the unspoken question. "They were my favorite books when I was a child. I... Well, you saw me. I was stuck in a hospital bed with nothing to do. So I read, anything I could get my hands on. The Maggie Holt books were my favorite. They were... strange and scary and much too old for me, but they were also... hopeful. Maggie, she was strong. Resilient. No matter what happened to her, she had... She had something to hold on to, to keep her going."

Contessa stayed silent, but she nodded. She was watching the movie closely now, Alexandria noticed.

"Do you... want to watch them with me?"

For the first time in her life, Alexandria saw a glimpse behind that mask as Contessa's eyes widened in surprise, flickering between Alexandria and the screen.

"I have to..." Contessa began, then paused. Alexandria watched, fascination growing as that mask slowly crumbled in front of her, nervous eyes and a bite of the lip coming out. Almost childlike.

"It's okay," she said, reassuring. "Everyone needs a break sometime."

Contessa's eyes, still so hesitant, seemed fixed on Alexandria. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Alexandria set her helmet down on the floor, freeing up the space next to her for Contessa to sit. Her movements were nothing like the other times Alexandria had seen her, then always smooth and confident; here they were stiff, uncoordinated.

Contessa caught her watching, and a small blush rose up over her pale skin. "I... Sorry. I'm not..."

"It's okay," she repeated, smiling softly.

Slowly, they turned back to the television. On the screen, an older woman was talking to Maggie. _"Don't you understand? Everything you had belongs to him now. Your parents, your name, your life. You have nothing. I don't know how you can still be fighting."_

Maggie huffed, dipping her chin down into her scarf. _"Oh, you just gotta look on the bright side. Now he has to pay my credit card bill."_

Alexandria groaned, but it was cut off by a sudden sound next to her. A laugh, loud and unrestrained, echoing through the room. A child's laugh.

Contessa's.

Her entire face was lit up in a grin, eyes sparkling even as she tried to contain her giggles. Alexandria watched, her own smile slowly blooming as Contessa tried to purse her lips, a nervous little smile and blush spreading across her face. But it was hopeless, and soon enough Contessa was laughing again.

Rebecca laughed with her.


End file.
